A Knock at the Door
by rachaelisha
Summary: Dr. Facilier receives a visitor, with a gift he never planned for.
1. Chapter 1

Whispered footsteps, hushed whisperings. Were they trying to remain unheard? Because that would be quite the feat, seeing as one of them had just knocked on the door. Never mind that, Facilier picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it, awakening all the odds and ends in the room. Customers always appreciated seeing the masks lit up from an unknown source and voodoo dolls with agile movements. They were things that made the entire "voodoo magic man" gig more realistic. However, it truly was real, whether people realized it or not.

The door opened on it's own, and Facilier emerged from the shadows. "Good evening, folks. I am the honorable Dr. Facilier, specializing in potions, spells, and any means necessary of making your dreams come true." He looked; but no one was there. Literally, no one. Who had knocked at the door? Who was playing a prank on the Shadow Man himself? As he mulled this over, he felt a tug on his pant leg, and looked down to see a little boy staring up at him with wide eyes. He couldn't have been more than four years old. Something about his dimples reminded Facilier of someone, though he couldn't exactly place the memory. He looked left and right, hoping that maybe the boy's parents were hiding somewhere in the parlor, but he saw no one.

He looked down at the child. "Hello, little tike. I don't s'pose y'all've got a momma or a daddy around here, do ya?" He smiled, hoping that a show of positive emotion would persuade the child to answer.

No words came out of the child's mouth; he just smiled, keeping a small bundle of Facilier's pant leg in his hand, as if it was a comfort to have it there. A small breeze blew across the back of Facilier's neck, causing him to shiver; the door slammed shut. The candles that had been lit were now blown out, all at once, and the eerie sourceless lights illuminating the masks were dimmed. A spotlight seemed to shine on Facilier; he looked down again, and the child was gone.

"Facilier. You have no idea how long I've been trying to find you." A voice, a woman's voice, seemed not to be around him, but in his head. He couldn't help but listen. "For years now, you've managed to stay under the radar, but I was able to procure some help from some…friends, let's call them. And now, here you are, once again in my power." The woman's voice laughed, a familiar sound. It couldn't be.

Facilier's face became stern, finding none of this funny in the least bit. "Henrietta Dunn. My, it has been a while." He smiled sarcastically, still wondering where she was. A shadow emerged from the corner, closely followed by a familiar female form. Average height, skinny as six o'clock, and more beautiful than Aphrodite. She truly was a privilege for any man to be with, and Facilier had had that privilege years ago. He smiled, remembering his short time with her. "You're as beautiful as ever, ma'am." He smiled, bowed. "To what may I owe this momentous occasion, seeing one so lovely again?"

The lights in the room returned to normal, the candles relit and the masks' lights dimming. She set down the boy, who his behind her legs, barely poking out his head enough to look at the string bean of a man standing before them. "I came to give you something." She pulled the boy out from behind her, pushing him toward Facilier. The boy went back to the woman, this time standing in front of her, looking down at the ground. "This is Warren. He's my, our, son."

Facilier's jaw gaped. He pointed at the boy, his son, and shook his head in disbelief. "I have…you had…you were…why didn't you tell me?" He looked at her, unsure of how to feel. For now, he just hoped to have his questions answered.

She smiled. "He's three, he'll be four in June. The 15th. I never told you because I never got the chance. You left before I'd even woken up, and I had no idea how to find you. Luckily…I've dabbled in the voodoo arts since then. I'm afraid that I can no longer take care of him. He's your responsibility now." With that, she snapped her fingers. All light left the room for just a moment, and she was gone. Warren was still standing in his place, as if he had no idea she had left. He turned around and realized she was no longer standing behind him, supporting him. In her place was a suitcase, which Facilier assumed was filled with items of Warren's. Three years old, and apparently just abandoned by the only parent he'd known, Warren sat down and started crying silently. The longer he went on, the more violently he cried, though he never truly made a sound. Facilier would've been sympathetic, had he been able to process what had just happened.

"I…have…a son…" He realized now that the boy's dimples were the ones that he had seen in the mirror through his 20's. The boy's eyes were the same brilliant blue as Henrietta's. His hair was raven and curly, as both of his parents. His skin was a lovely mocha color, a perfect median between Henrietta's porcelain and Facilier's light ebony. The child resembled both of his parents equally; now that Facilier saw this, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized this the moment he'd seen the boy. Warren.

He had a son.


	2. Chapter 2

He had a son.

Dr. Facilier had a son, flesh and bone, and he even had the same dimples as the little man. The eyes were his mother's, but everything else was Facilier, Facilier, Facilier.

Warren sat there, crying, and eventually opened his suitcase and pulled out a ratty old thing that Facilier could only assume was a blanket, which the child promptly burrowed into, sucking his thumb. The brilliant blue matched the child's eyes, as well as his mother's.

The cold heart in Facilier's chest would have been breaking for the child, had he been able to grasp the concept of what had just happened to him. His time with Henrietta was so long ago that all he could remember was the warmth of her porcelain skin, and the way she dominated him, which he of course loved. They had only spent one night together, though they spent many days before that in each other's company. How they met had been lost in Facilier's memories long ago, but that didn't matter. The night they'd spent together was absolutely perfect, but he'd left in the morning before she'd had the chance to wake.

The reason no longer mattered.

He had a son.

She had become pregnant and given birth to a son…his son.

The room began to spin and Facilier had to sit down on his favorite old chest, which he used mostly for storage. Inside of it were his finest healing herbs and spices, complete with the spells they required to work. If only he could use something in there to heal the child's broken heart.

After about five minutes of silent thinking on his part, and silent sobbing on Warren's part, the child had fallen asleep. There was no point in denying it at this point. He had a son, and now it was his responsibility to take care of the tiny thing. Enchanted dust in hand (even after a couple decades in the business, he couldn't think of a better name for it) he walked over to his designated "guest" room, closed his eyes, and blew into his hand to spread the dust across the room. After giving it a moment to settle, he opened his eyes and looked around.

The room now contained a small bed that was low to the ground, several children's toys, a small bookshelf lined with simple books, a desk and chair, blank paper and crayons, and a modestly beautiful rocking chair, all in an earth tone color palette. Something was missing, though. Facilier snapped his fingers, and Warren floated through the air onto the bed, still asleep and snuggling his blanket.

Something was still missing, however. The suitcase and it's contents still lay in the front of the parlor, so Facilier walked over to it and took his time placing its contents around the room. The few sets of clothing that were there were placed in the drawers of the mahogany desk. Two sippy cups, used to fill the empty space on the bookshelf. Several diapers, also placed on the bookshelf. Several well-worn books. Odds and ends that were placed here and there, and finally, a letter addressed to "Warren, on his 18th birthday." The envelope was written in Henrietta's hand.

Curiosity got the better of him. Opening the envelope, purple light filled the room, and Facilier had to cover his eyes. Once the light faded, an image of Henrietta was before him, looking smug as ever.

"Facilier," she said laughing. "I knew you'd open this before Warren turned 18. Don't forget, June 15th is his birthday. I figured you wouldn't wait, so this is actually addressed to you. Warren's letter is in his favorite book, which he'll point out to you at some point later. There's one for him now, and one for him when he's 18. They'll each only play once, so please don't let him open the 18 one until he is actually 18. This message to you will only play once as well, so listen up. Warren Andrew Facilier. I gave him your last name because I knew you'd eventually come into his life, even if by force. He's grown up with no father figure in his life, so it's going to be complicated at first." Her expression softened, and a gentle smile spread across her face. "He's a wonderful boy, that Warren. I love him with all my heart…it's killing me to give him up, but it's best for him right now. I can't explain my reasoning to you, so please just trust me. It's for the best. He's very shy, and incredibly bright. He began reading before he was three. He can identify notes on a piano, and even play simple songs by ear. He draws very well and very accurately, for a toddler. There's a bit of magic in him, and a bit of voodoo. Light and dark, just like us, but we'll probably never figure out who's which. It doesn't matter. You're taking care of our son now." Tears filled her eyes as she paused for a beat.

"Treat him right, Facilier. Love him as much as I loved you and you loved me, way back when. I don't know why you left so quickly, but maybe it was for the best. As for taking care of him, all you need to know is that he's out of diapers but still has the occasional accident, he can almost drink from a normal glass without making a mess, and he hates peas. And broccoli and spinach, and I think pork, but sometimes he decides that he actually likes pork, and then that's all he'll eat for a week.

"He's a wonderful boy. He really is. He's got a wonderful personality that you'll uncover on day 1. Please just be a good father. I know you have it in you." She smiled and winked at him coyly. "Of course, I'll be checking in once in a while. Don't be surprised when i do."

And with that, she vanished from his life once again.


End file.
